


Ash

by taenia



Series: Ash [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Bondage, M/M, blowjobs that are over entirely too quickly, but hey Celebrimbor lives!, everything is horrible, fix one thing and the entirety of middle earth goes to hell, literal hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taenia/pseuds/taenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now you say to me, lady, that my greatest work, guided in its completion by a servant of Aulë -- a work that is fair, and hath power in itself to mend and preserve unstained what little goodness we still have -- you say to me that this work is evil, and should not be used? I see little wisdom in this council, though I have accounted you wise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ash

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine that the fate of the world probably hung on little moments when Celebrimbor's doubts competed with his love. I mean, once Sauron got to torturing, his evilness was probably pretty apparent, and it would be easier to resist.
> 
> And so, I figured, what if, after a night of good fucking, feeling loved and cosseted, our darling idiot Tyelpe decided to make excuses for his Maia's lust for world domination, and told him who had the Three? (I actually quite like this [horrible, terrible, no good, everybody dies] AU, and may spend more time thinking about it.)

Celebrimbor wasn't quite sure how this had happened, but he knew that he never wanted it to stop.

His hands had been tied together at the wrists, then fixed above his head to the bed post, high enough that he had to stand almost on the tips of his toes to keep his arms from stretching painfully. His calves were beginning to cramp from the exertion.

Annatar, his Annatar, his gift beyond gifts, knelt in front of him, fingers kneading into the flesh of his buttocks. His lips were hot and wet against Celebrimbor's thighs, his tongue occasionally darted out to lick up sweat between kisses.

It was maddening beyond words, for Annatar seemed oblivious to the elf's staining hardness, and would not touch him.

"Damn you," Celebrimbor said. "Damn you. Suck me off before my arms fall off," he said.

The Maia smiled. Hot fingers wrapped around Celeborn, exquisite. "But, my darling," he said, "I'm having so much fun..." With agonizing slowness, his hand began to work its way down.

Celebrimbor moaned. "I will give you _anything_ ," he said. "I _beg_ you. I will humble myself before you, Annatar. Just. Get me off. Now."

With a wicked little smile, Annatar nodded, wrapping his lips around Celebrimbor's shaft, cupping the elf's balls in one hand while his tongue went to work.

It was over quickly, far too quickly. Shuddering, Celebrimbor came in delightful spasms; he was in delirium, his eyes closed. He did not notice the easing pain in his arms, and only opened his eyes again when he felt the soft mattress beneath his back. Annatar had, in one smooth motion, untied Celebrimbor, and lain him down. He sat beside the elf, looking at him with a catty smile.

"Do your shoulders hurt?" he asked.

Celebrimbor shook his head. "No. It's mostly my legs, damn you."  
"Damn me?" Annatar laughed. "My beloved, my Tyelpe, you are cruel." He leaned down into Celebrimbor. The kiss tasted of sweat and come, mingled with the spicy alien sweetness of Annatar's tongue.

Celebrimbor sighed happily. "I learned from you, didn't I?"

He brushed a stray lock of hair away from the elf's face, gentle. Celebrimbor shuddered suddenly; Annatar's ring had brushed against his skin, freezing cold against the ember of the Maia's skin.

"So," Annatar said, after a moment of happy silence, " _Anything_?"

The elf nodded. "Anything."

"In that case, then," Annatar grinned, "I want you to fuck me. When you're ready, of course."

***

Later, they were curled up together, a tangled mess of limbs and heat. Celebrimbor was running his fingers through Annatar's hair, marveling at its fragrance, like spice and woodsmoke mingled.

"I gave Nenya to Galadriel," he said, suddenly.

Annatar turned, propping up his head. "What?" he said.

"The ring I made? The water ring? My cousin Galadriel has it. And I gave Vilya to Elrond. They both have kingdoms that need ring magic, and I trust them. I haven't decided who should get Narya, my fire ring. I was thinking perhaps Cirdan..."

Annatar's face flickered, like the shadow of a moth passing before a lamp. "Why are you telling me this?"

Celebrimbor shrugged, blinking sleepily. "Since I found out about your ring, I've known that you wanted to stay. I mean here, in Endor. And we're all in this together, right? We should work with each other."

Annatar smiled, then cupped the elf's chin in his hand. "Keep Narya," he said. "You were always meant for fire."

***

A week later, Celebrimbor was in his study. A letter had arrived for him, and he was writing furiously, ink spattering as he tried to contain the anger he felt. Galadriel was family, after all, and he had to be polite.

_Do you think me a fool, lady? ... I know that Annatar hungers for power and dominion. But you departed from Aman for want of your own domain, as did my father and grandfather before me. And Middle Earth has flowered under our care. And yet ever have our works been tarnished and marred by the devices of the Great Enemy; ever has the world been split and torn in two, and great beauty has been swallowed in the Sea forever. And now you say to me, lady, that my greatest work, guided in its completion by a servant of Aulë -- a work that is fair, and hath power in itself to mend and preserve unstained what little goodness we still have -- you say to me that this work is evil, and should not be used? I see little wisdom in this council, though I have accounted you wise._

Celebrimbor looked up suddenly. The air smelled of cinnamon -- Annatar had come into the room.

"Writing to your cousin, Tyelpe tyenya?" Annatar purred.  
The elf did not turn. "She does not trust you," he said simply. "We all felt it when you put on your ring, you know, and she is certain that what we sensed was, well ... Evil." He blushed a little. He did not like Annatar to think that he doubted him, even when the words were not his own.

A slender finger ran lightly across Celebrimbor's cheekbones. It burned like a coal on his skin, but the heat was broken by a cold band of metal that felt like ice. Annatar's ring: the current cause of all Celebrimbor's sorrow.

"And what do you think, my treasure?"  
Cassia and incense, Annatar's scent was overwhelming. "I think I understand you better," he said. "And I would not have told you who had the rings if I didn't trust you. We all want the same thing."

Annatar smiled, then curled his fingers forward over the elf's mouth. Celebrimbor bit at him, gently, then his tongue lapped at those elegant fingers, tasting salt and ash.

"By Eru," the elf said, pulling away abruptly, "I love you." He stood, turning to face his lover.

If a brief shadow flickered across Annatar's face, he did not see it, absorbed rather by his look of lust and longing. Celebrimbor did not know what he had done to invite this glorious golden presence into his life, and he did not care.

"And I you," Annatar said, pressing inwards for a fierce, brief kiss. "Together, my love, we will remake Arda into what it should be."

Celebrimbor had been leaning in, chasing the kiss. "We will make her understand," he said, drawing in Annatar's breath as the Maia exhaled. "What we're doing is good, and she will see it."

He laughed, beautiful golden tones that filled Celebrimbor with fire. "She must," he said. "After all, she will use her ring."

***

Some years later, in Barad-dûr, the orcs brought him Galadriel's head, mounted on a pike.

Her scarlet blood smelled of cinnamon and ash.


End file.
